Sandman
by BluAlbino
Summary: While hunting for a warlock, Sam and Dean get cursed to lose their voices and find out that in order to remove the curse, they need the help of the warlock who put it on them. Set mid-season three.
1. Chapter 1

**No copyright infrigement intended, Please don't sue me**

* * *

"Why do warlocks only come out at three in the morning?" Dean asked his brother, as they marched through the woods.

"Because they hate sunlight." Sam replied, getting a glare for answering a rhetorical question. Dean stepped forward, ignoring Sam and pointing his sawed-off shotgun in front of him. Sam followed, remembering that his brother was not a happy person this early in the morning. The brothers walked as quietly as possible, trying to surprise their prey.

They came upon a small log cabin type house, with the windows lit and smoke curling out of the chimney. Sam walked up next to Dean and gave him a look; Dean nodded. This was the right place. Sam was suddenly reminded of the witch's gingerbread house in Hansel and Gretel, and suppressed a shiver.

Dean and Sam walked over to the front door, paused for a moment, then Dean kicked it in.

"What the-" Yelled the man inside, and quickly stopped when Dean pointed his gun at him. The man moved back from the fireplace, and Sam thought that he looked more like a businessman than a warlock, with his short grey-black hair and trench coat.

"Sam!" Dean said, and his little brother splashed holy water on the man. He screamed in agony, but seemed to get over the pain faster then a demon would.

"You must be the Winchesters." He said, glaring at them.

"Yes we are." said Dean, grinning like he always did when their enemy recognized them.

"I was expecting you…" The warlock said, then he drew a handful of herbs from his pocket, and threw them into the fire.

A huge explosion rocked through the house and threw the Winchesters against the wall. They hit the ground a second later, unconscious. The warlock calmly walked over to them, unaffected by his own magical backlash. He considered killing them, but where was the fun in that? An idea struck him, he grinned evilly and chanted a few lines of twisted Latin over the brothers, then left them to their fate.

* * *

Dean woke up and shook his head groggily. The warlock was gone, the fire was out, and so was Sam. Dean opened his mouth to wake his brother, but no sound came out. He tried again, and still couldn't speak. He grabbed Sam's shoulder and shook him awake. Sam woke and stared at Dean like he didn't know what was going on. He opened his mouth, then looked thunderstruck when he couldn't talk either. Sam gave Dean a 'what the hell's happening' look, and the older Winchester shrugged. He got up and started to walk out when Sam grabbed his shoulder. His little brother gave him another look, and Dean shrugged again. What else could he do? Sam rolled his eyes. Dean glared at him, then made a 'come on' gesture while walking off towards the Impala. Sam, lacking any other choice, followed him.

It was almost totally silent on the ride home, since neither of them could talk and the stereo was turned down low. Sam stared out the windshield dejectedly and Dean was considering kicking him for being so irritatingly depressed. They pulled up in front of the salvage yard, and Bobby ambushed them right outside of the car.

"'Ja get 'im?" He asked. Sam looked down and Dean glared at him. "I'll take that as a no." Bobby said. "What happened then?" Neither of them answered. "C'mon guys, you have to tell me somethin'!" Bobby glared at them, and Sam opened his mouth to explain, and yet again nothing came out. That didn't stop Sam though, and he kept mouthing the words but made no sound. Bobby's eyebrows shot up.

"What the hell? Can you talk Sam?" Sam shook his head, then pointed to Dean and shook it again. "Dean can't talk either?" They both nodded. Bobby sighed, "well, I guess you should head back up to the house then."

* * *

The two of them were spread out in Bobby's library, reading and trying to find out a way to get their voices back. Dean turned a page and yawned soundlessly. Man he was tired… Sam looked like he was half asleep already. Dean started humming, trying to keep himself awake. Sam's head snapped up at the sound. He grabbed the notebook and pen that Bobby gave him and scribbled something on it. He waved it around until Dean noticed he was holding it. _You're humming! _It said.

Dean shrugged, saying 'so what'? Sam scribbled in the notebook more. _If you can hum, maybe your voice is coming back. _Dean opened his mouth, and still couldn't talk. He shook his head at Sam, who went back to his paper.

_Try singing. _He wrote, looking at his brother hopefully. Dean picked up his own notebook.

_Singing? _he gave Sam a 'WTF?' look, but Sam just nodded. Dean sighed, then opened his mouth and out came the lyrics to the song he was humming, 'Enter Sandman.'

_Exit Light_

_Enter Night_

_Take my hand_

_Off to never never land_

Sam smiled, and Bobby rushed down the stairs at hearing Dean's voice.

"Was that you?" He asked Dean, who nodded, still a little shocked. Sam tried singing what he wanted to say but nothing came out. So he wrote _Dean can sing _in his notebook and showed it to Bobby. "Can you?" He asked Sam, who shook his head. "That doesn't make sense. If you're both under the same spell, then you should be able to sing." He thought for a minute. "What were you trying to say anyway?" Sam pointed at the paper. "Try singing an actual song."

Sam opened his mouth to sing, and Dean plugged his ears. Sam glared at him.

"Ignore him." Bobby said.

_Something's wrong, shut the light_

_Heavy thoughts tonight_

_And they aren't of snow white_

Sam looked shocked that the words had actually come out of his mouth, and Dean shot Bobby a look, 'see why I covered my ears?' Fortunately for him, Sam missed the look and started humming.

_Why can we sing? _Dean asked Bobby.

"I think it's because of a spell loophole." Dean raised his eyebrow. "Well, if the fine-print of the spell says you can't talk, but says nothing about singing, then you can still get away with it. And you can only sing actual lyrics, because sing-talking would be the same as talking normally. Dean scowled, and Bobby shrugged.

"So now I know more about the spell, it'll be easier to find it in the books, and hopefully a way to reverse it." Bobby went back to researching, and the brothers went to sleep.

* * *

"Morning boys" Bobby said with a yawn as the brothers walked downstairs in the morning. Dean nodded in his direction, then went to the kitchen to get breakfast. Sam held his notebook out to Bobby, _Did you find anything?_ Bobby sighed.

"Well, I pulled an all nighter, but I can't find the spell. I think it's one of the warlock's personal spells, and if it is, he's the only one who can reverse it." Sam hung his head, and Dean re-appeared in the library with toast. "But I did find something that would give him a little incentive to help…"

* * *

**'Enter Sandman' By Metallica, and all the songs are picked out by my Song Consultant MidnightAsh7184 (love you ashie!) Reveiws make me happy ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

Bobby and Dean stalked through the woods, Dean wondering why his luck was bad enough to have to do this two nights in a row. They approached the warlock's abandoned cabin. Since the door was already broken in from Dean's last visit, they walked straight in. Bobby headed straight for the other rooms, while Dean stayed in the main one. Both began to search through drawers, cabinets, and anything else that could hide things.

"What are you DOING?" Less then five minutes in, and he had already showed up. Must be magical censors. Dean turned and pointed his gun at the warlock. He looked pissed. "Didn't I teach you a lesson last time you were here?" He raised his hand, pointing his palm toward Dean. "I guess I'll just have to finish the job then…" He closed his eyes in concentration, and Dean felt the magic gathering around his outstretched hand. The older Winchester knew that it would be a good time to start shooting, but he couldn't move a muscle. The warlock took a deep breath, preparing to kill Dean with a spell - when Sam, who had been hiding in the woods, snuck up behind him and poured the contents of a hex-bag over his head.

The warlock choked on the first syllable of his spell and the magic he had gathered scattered back into the air. He clutched at his throat and wheezed, but couldn't speak. The boys had thrown his own spell back at him. Go Bobby! The warlock seemed to realize this, he turned around and SMACK! He slapped Sam across the face, sending him to the ground. Dean ran over to him, and Sam gave him a thumbs up, then pointed at the warlock, who was high-tailing it into the woods. _I'm fine, go get him! _Dean nodded once, then ran after him.

The warlock may have been older then Dean, but he was definitely in shape. Dean crashed through the woods, and into a small clearing. That magician was just right in front of me, he thought. Were the hell did he go?

The warlock slammed into him, hoping to get the hunter off his guard. It worked. Dean fell forward, and his gun flew out of his hands. The warlock went for it, but Dean grabbed his leg and pulled him down to the ground. They began to wrestle, Dean knowing that, if he lost, he'd be a dead man. He pinned the warlock under him, and got snarled at. Dean growled back.

_Take a look to the sky just before you die_

_It is the last time you will_

Maybe that'll shut him up, Dean thought. The warlock certainly seemed shocked that he was able to make words come out of his mouth. Obviously he didn't know about that little flaw. Dean grinned, glad to have the upper hand. He heard Bobby call his name, and looked up. The warlock used his lapse in concentration to push him off and make another lunge for the gun. This time it worked, but Dean grabbed his wrist at the same time. It triggered a shot, and Dean let go. The warlock, looking insane and incredibly angry, pointed the shotgun at Dean's head. Crap. Dean closed his eyes and prepared for the end.

Sam and Bobby ran through the bushes and into the clearing, following the sound of the gunshot. They saw the warlock standing over Dean, and pointed their own guns at him. The warlock gestured at Dean, whose eyes were now wide open, with his gun. _I'll shoot him._

Sam growled deep in his throat. _Then I'll shoot you._

The warlock weighed his options. Getting killed wouldn't be good, but he wanted to shoot Dean. In the end he sighed, still glaring at Dean, and tossed the gun to him. Dean picked it up and went to stand with his brother and Bobby. Sam walked over to the warlock, an angry glint in his eye. He hit him in the head with the butt of his shotgun and knocked him unconscious.

* * *

The warlock came too on a chair in one of Bobby's many unused rooms, with a card table, paper and a piece of charcoal in front of him. Sam, who had been watching him slowly wake up, slapped the wall, making a loud bang noise. A second later Dean and Bobby showed up.

"Look who finally woke up." Bobby said. The warlock growled at him. "Don't pull that crap with me. We all know that you're powerless without your voice. If you help us, then we'll all be out of this mess faster." The warlock snarled. He reached for the paper and charcoal.

_Release me, _He wrote.

"Not a chance." Bobby said. "How about we start with your name." The warlock held off on writing for a second, until he heard Dean crack his knuckles.

_Lor._

"And what about the spell you put on Sam and Dean?"

_One of my personal curses. How did he speak? _Lor pointed at Dean. Bobby ignored his question.

"How do we undo it?" Lor snorted.

_Only a warlock or witch can speak the words. Obviously I can't in this state. _

"Really." Bobby said dryly. Lor rolled his eyes and nodded his head sarcastically. "Give me the words, and I'll find someone to speak them." Lor sighed and turned his paper over.

_Find a warlock first, then you get my words.__

* * *

_

**Still no copyright infrigement intended, song is For Whom the Bell Tolls by Metallica, Supernatural belongs to Kripke because he wins at life. All songs are chosen by MidnightAsh7184**


	3. Chapter 3

Dean and Sam were busy glaring at Lor when Bobby showed up.

"In here," he said, leading a pretty brunette behind him. She had waist length hair and a long tunic. She waved at the brothers, then glanced at the warlock.

"That him?" she asked.

"Yup." Dean and Sam looked and each other, confused, then back to Bobby. "This is Isabelle."

_She's not a witch._ Lor held up his paper.

"I'm not." Isabelle said, offended. "I'm a wiccan."

_My words will burn her mouth._

"I'll try it anyway." She said glaring at him. Lor stared back, a smirk on his face. He handed he a sheet of paper with what looked like runes and scribbles on it.

"Can you read it?" Bobby asked. Isabelle nodded. She opened her mouth and uttered a long harsh noise, followed by a screech. Sam shoved his fingers in his ears and Dean mouthed 'WTF?' in Bobby's direction. Isabelle kept making horrible noises, staring at the paper, frowning with concentration. Lor's smirk broke into a full-fledged grin, his shoulders shaking with laughter as she continued to struggle. Isabelle paused and took a deep breath, looking pale and tired.

"This might be harder than I thought." she said, hoarsely.

"I'll get you some water." Bobby said reassuringly, then left. Lor continued to laugh silently, until Dean picked up an eraser and whipped it at him. He stood and walked over to Isabelle and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's silent flirting. Isabelle smiled weakly at Dean, who leaned forward to whisper/sing in her ear.

_Give me a whisper_

_And give me a sign_

_Give me a kiss before you_

_tell me goodbye_

Isabelle grinned wider, and Sam groaned. Neither of them noticed the way that Lor's ears perked up slightly at the words.

"Here," bobby said, re-appearing and handing Isabelle a bottle of ice-cold water. She gulped half of it, and picked up the paper. Sam shook his head. _No!!_

"Maybe we should save that for a different time…" Bobby said, taking the paper back. Isabelle and Bobby went back downstairs, to continue researching, leaving the brothers on warlock watch. Sam and Dean sat at a table across from Lor, all of them glaring at each other. The angry silence was finally broken by Sam's stomach rumbling loudly. The other two looked at him, and he grinned apologetically at Dean. He scribbled on his notebook.

_I'll go get food. Want any? _Dean held up his own note book.

_**PIE!**_ Was written, covering the entire page. Sam rolled his eyes and glanced at Lor, who shook his head. Sam walked to the door, debating weather or not to leave them alone. Dean waved his hand at his brother, shoo-ing him out of the room. Sam headed down the stairs, and Lor started grinning again.

Dean glared at the warlock, _What are you smiling about?_ Lor wrote on his own single paper with charcoal.

_Your brother's a pretty one, isn't he? _Lor laughed, and Dean's blood ran cold. He growled at the warlock, who responded by licking his lips.

_You sick twisted fuck. _Dean wrote, shaking with anger. Lor smiled wider, until Dean was about to punch him. Luckily, Sam ran back up the stairs and stopped, sensing the tension in the room. Dean calmed down, and read the paper Sam handed to him.

_Isabelle went home, and Bobby's out of food. Will you two be okay if we go to the store for a few minutes? _Dean nodded. Sam raised his eyebrows, _you sure?_ Dean nodded again, harder this time. He pointed the page in his notebook with the word pie written on it, reminding Sam. The younger Winchester smiled slightly, then headed back out. A few minutes later, Dean and Lor heard Bobby' truck pull out of the driveway. Lor smirked at Dean again. He drew a deep breath, and began to chant. It sounded like when Isabelle tried to read the spell off, but much more fluid, and less strained. It grinded in Dean's ears like sandpaper. He coughed, once, twice, and felt something dislodge from his throat.

"What the hell?" Dean asked, shocked by his own voice. Then he realized. "It was a song…" he clutched at his throat, disoriented by the words coming out of his mouth.

Lor grinned. Then, without warning, his palm struck Dean in the forehead, and his fingers dug into his scalp. The warlock began chanting, and Dean screamed in agony.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke and the CW, song is Don't Cry by Guns n' Roses, songs all picked out by my song consultant MidnightAsh 7184**


	4. Chapter 4

Walking through the grocery store Sam grabbed some pop tarts and headed down towards the baked goods when he felt the first tickle in the back of his throat. He coughed a little into his hand, and it was immediately followed by another, more violent cough. He kept coughing, dropping all his parcels and doubling over. Sam felt a shift in the back of his throat, like the tickle was dislodged. He took a deep breath and looked around, seeing the small concerned crowd he had attracted.

"You okay, honey?" asked an older woman near him.

"Yeah. Asthma." He said, shocking himself with his own voice. "Gotta go," he ran out to Bobby in the parking lot, leaving his stuff on the floor. "Bobby!" he yelled, his voice rough with disuse.

"Sam?" Bobby said. "You're talking now?" Sam nodded, and climbed into the truck. Bobby understood his unspoken worry. If Sam could speak, Lor could too. Bobby headed back home a fast as he could, breaking a few speed limits. His cell rang, and he picked it up one handedly.

"Yeah?" he barked into the mouthpiece.

"Bobby? I think I found Lor" Isabelle said on the other end.

"Huh?"

"In one of my books. A found an entry about an eighteenth century warlock called 'Lor the Sandman.' "

"Sandman? And if it's the same guy, how is he still around?" Sam's ears perked up.

"Apparently he magically sucks life force from his victims, and it restores his youth. But as long as he can't chant, you're safe."

"And if he could chant…" Bobby suggested.

"WHAT?" Isabelle yelled. "Bobby, if he has his voice back, he'll go after the first person he can get alone!" Sam, leaning in next to the phone, heard her.

"Thanks Izzy, gotta go." Bobby snapped the phone closed and floored the gas.

* * *

"DEAN!" Sam yelled, crashing through the door of Bobby's house. "DEAN!" His throat burned, but he ignored it. Sam ran up the stairs, putting his long legs to use. He burst through the door of the room where Lor was being held captive. The warlock was gone, and in his place was an old man, wearing Dean's clothes.

"Dean." Sam whispered and walked over to the old man. He leaned over him and saw Deans face, but lined and wrinkled with age. His hands were shaking, even in his sleep. Sam couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his strong, young, loud older brother had been turned into this shuddering wreck. Dean drew in a long labored breath.

"Jesus…" Bobby said, coming in the door. Sam slid his arms under his brothers frail body, and carried him out the door past Bobby. He placed Dean on Bobby's bed and checked to make sure he was still breathing.

"Sam…" Sam walked past Bobby without answering. "Sam! Where the hell are you going?" Sam ignored him yet again, and grabbed his shotgun. Bobby grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. He stopped when he saw the look in Sam's eye.

"Don't get yourself killed." was all he said. Sam nodded once, and headed out.


	5. Chapter 5

Lor waited in his shack in the woods. It was chilly, having been ransacked twice in less then a week, but his young form could handle it. Lor grinned to himself yet again, and ran a hand through his now thick hair. Yes, he had everything…well, almost everything. All he had to do was wait for Sam to show up…

* * *

Wasting no time with etiquette, Sam kicked the door in. It crashed down, hitting the floor with a bang. Sam pointed his shotgun straight forward, aiming between Lor's eyes.

"Calm yourself." Lor said, not looking remotely bothered by the gun aimed at him.

"Give back Dean's life force." Lor chuckled.

"Why Sam? Does that make any sense?" Sam didn't reply. "Dean's dying in a few months anyway, what's the point?"

"Dean won't die." Lor laughed again, Sam stood, frozen.

"Why not Sam, are you going to stop it?" Sam didn't need to reply to that. "You can't. Plain and simple. Which is why I went for your brother and not you. This way, it's less like taking, and more like…recycling." Sam pumped his shotgun.

"Shut up."

"Or what? You'll shoot me? Sam, let me tell you something. I'm living off Dean's life force. If I die, he does too." Sam gulped.

"Why are you telling me this?" Lor grinned.

"I don't want to get shot, partly. And partly because, I like you Sam. You have real…promise." Lor let the words trickle out of his mouth, slowly seducing Sam.

"What do you mean promise?" Sam didn't lower the gun, but Lor heard an interested tone in his voice.

"I mean, you would make a decent sorcerer, given some training. I've been looking for an apprentice." Sam gritted his teeth.

"So you used Dean to get to me." Lor didn't foresee this particular topic of conversation. It could end badly. Sam sensed his indecision, and knew he was right.

"No deal." Sam said. He shot the warlock, hoping he had been lying about Dean's life force.

* * *

Dean drew in a deep breath and sat bolt upright in bed. He looked down at his hands, his old man's hands. Before his eyes the wrinkles faded, the liver spots shrunk, and the arthritis-y knuckles reversed their swelling. Dean felt all his muscles slowly stop aching. He brought his hands to his face and felt the wrinkles recede as his vision cleared.

"Holy shit!" Bobby said, walking into the room. Dean looked up at him and grinned, feeling like his old--young-- self again.

"Way to go, Sammy."

* * *

Sam must've broke at least five speeding limits on the way back to Bobby's. Miraculously, he didn't see any cops, or many other drivers. He pulled into Bobby's driveway, hearing the Impala's tires screech against the ground. Oh well, Dean could yell at him about it later. Maybe.

Sam walked up to the front door, and it was flung open in his face.

"Tell me I did not just hear my baby's tires make that sound." Dean said, glaring at Sam. Sam stared at him, almost not believing he was real. He pulled his big brother into a hug. Dean let him, but seemed too uncomfortable to hug back.

"Don't go all chick-flicky on me." Dean mumbled.

"I just saved your life, Jerk." Sam replied, not letting go. Bobby cleared his throat behind them, causing Sam to, reluctantly, let go of Dean.

"'Ja shoot him?" Dean asked, his voice gruff and macho to compensate for the hug.

"Yeah."

"Good, now gimme me my keys." Sam grinned at this blatant Dean-ism and pulled them out of his pocket.

"Here," he said, putting them in Dean's waiting hand. They headed inside, and stayed on more night at Bobby's before heading out for their next hunt.


End file.
